you were close to your father?’
‘Yes,’ she said in a quiet voice. ‘I adored him. When I went to England he visited me there. When he left and came back to the island he became ill. I never saw him again.’
‘I’m sorry. Your life must be pretty limited on the island—your social life stilted, hidden away from the world.’
‘I’m not, not really. I love the island and the life here—but sometimes I feel like a bird in a cage unable to fly free,’ she said on a note of regret. ‘I loved England and the time I spent there. I made lots of friends, girls I went to school with. One day I will go back—soon, I hope. But you are right. Visitors to Santamaria are few and far between.’
‘Then it’s a crime, living here without connecting to the outside world.’ His stare tracked her with an intensity that she could feel from the short distance that separated them. ‘You should be in Virginia or London, being worshipped by wealthy young planters or noblemen and dancing till dawn.’
She stared at him in the gloom, flattered and quietly thrilled to think he thought enough about her to voice his opinion on what he thought was best for her, even though she hated the idea of leaving Santamaria for good. She was wildly encouraged all of a sudden to think that if he liked her so well, then surely he would help her. He was clearly a gentleman, no matter what the rumours said about him having dealings with pirates.
She would ask him now. Her excellent instincts told her that she could trust this man. ‘What would you say,’ she began slowly, ‘if I asked you for a favour?’
‘A favour?’ His eyes narrowed in sudden wariness. ‘What sort of favour, exactly?’
Her eyes held his and her confidence did not waver, though her heart was in her throat. Squaring her shoulders, she said, ‘Tell me—are you married, Captain Fitzgerald?’
‘No. Why do you ask?’
‘Would you take me to England?’
Zack sighed heavily, knowing he could not. As lovely and womanly as she was, he knew he’d find it difficult to conduct himself with the sort of gallantry his mother might expect of him. Shona McKenzie was very much a lady and the consequences of dallying with sweet innocents ensconced on his ship could affect his life in a most permanent fashion.
‘The Ocean Pearl is a merchant ship, Miss McKenzie. I’m sorry. There are no suitable accommodations for passengers.’
‘I’m not talking about being a passenger, Captain Fitzgerald. Would—would you consider marrying me?’
‘Good God’ was all he said, otherwise he simply stared at her, into her hope-filled emerald eyes.
Somewhat heartened that she hadn’t been refused outright, Shona went on, ‘Before you give me your answer, perhaps I should mention that my father left me a substantial inheritance and—’
‘Please don’t go on,’ he interrupted, raising a hand to stop her. ‘I believe I understand. Forgive me if under the circumstances I don’t know the appropriate response—perhaps I am expected to say that I am honoured—you see, it’s the first time in my life that I’ve been proposed to. Is that why you asked me to stay, Miss McKenzie?’ he asked crisply. ‘To soften me so you could ask me this?’
She lowered her head at the question and nodded. ‘Yes, it was.’
He cursed softly, shoving himself away from the wall. How dare she presume to know what kind of man he was, to take advantage of his feelings and his desire for her, which he had not bothered to hide. With his thumb, he tamped the coals into the bowl of his pipe. His hands were large and, though they appeared to have the strength to break anything they had a mind to, they were amazingly gentle—the slim clay pipe seemed like a fragile bird between them. Taking a leather pouch from his pocket, he shoved the pipe inside and placed it back in his pocket.
‘My name is Shona,’ she said, trying to drag him into a familiarity that he did not desire.
Zack took a deep breath, praying he would wake up and discover this was part of some strange dream. Too late, he knew he should never have accepted Antony McKenzie’s invitation to dinner. The danger had been too great. He should have stayed away and tried to forget he had ever met the lovely young woman on the quayside. He didn’t need this kind of trouble. He could have availed himself of the company of any of the women on the seafront, but, oddly, he hadn’t quite felt in the mood for the full-blown temptresses he usually favoured. Somehow Shona McKenzie had wheedled her way under his skin. He should have stayed with his ship and sailed with the tide for the next island, as his instincts had warned.
‘Why are you so intent on marrying me? There must be enough unattached wealthy males on the island you could marry.’
‘No, not one,’ she replied.
‘Then do you see me as a ticket off the island? Is that it?’
Uncomfortable with both the question and the penetrating look in his eyes, Shona averted her gaze, fixing it on the dark perimeter of the garden. Captain Fitzgerald was a stranger and she found it difficult to discuss her present circumstances with him. How could she tell him how unhappy she was at Melrose Hill, that she missed her father desperately and the house in which she had been born and raised was no longer the home she knew—and that the only way she could escape Carmelita’s acid tongue was to marry and leave the island for good?
‘Yes,’ she admitted fiercely. ‘I want to leave the island. Antony is fiendishly protective of me and will not allow me to leave unless I have someone else—a husband to take care of me.’
Zack put his hands on his lean hips and regarded her coldly. ‘If your options are limited, then you will have to keep looking, Miss McKenzie. It will not be me. Absolutely not!’
Shona moved closer to him, not really knowing what she intended, but she wasn’t ready to give up yet. Turning her face up to his, she licked her lower lip, a softness entering her eyes. ‘I...can’t persuade you to change your mind, Captain?’
He gave her a hard look, his mouth tightening as he stared at her softly heaving bosom and the tantalising mouth that was full and soft and trembling, trying to ignore the mute appeal in those large, luminescent eyes, seeking refuge in his anger. She might look fragile, but he was beginning to suspect she was as strong as steel inside.
‘Devil take it, I will not be persuaded or manipulated into marriage, not even to a woman as lovely and bewitching as you, Miss McKenzie,’ he said, refusing to be moved. Normally he steered clear of entanglements with females of marriageable age or any females who might place demands on him, preferring instead the more honest and uncomplicated relationships with women of lower class and of lower expectations. It was the easiest way, he had learned from experience. A brief encounter back in England with a woman who had attracted him for a short time had left him shackled by bonds that could never be broken. He was not about to repeat the mistake.
‘I am a man who has made his own choices for most of my life. As much as I would like to appease my manly appetites with you, I will not, like some lapdog, blandly accept your proposal of marriage. Next time you decide to throw yourself at an experienced man of the world, tread lightly or you will not survive. I’m not termed a pleasant sort. I have a foul temper which can snap up naïve young ladies like you without a second’s notice. So be warned, Miss McKenzie. Do not tempt it. When and if I decide to marry, I prefer to do the asking myself.’
